


If It Ain't Baroque...

by gravy_noodles



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Gay Mess Kara Danvers, Gay Mess Lena Luthor, Inspired by Music, Lena is low-key extra, Music, SuperCorp, SuperCorp Sunday, bring me a broom, gay shit, musician!Kara, they're all a gay mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravy_noodles/pseuds/gravy_noodles
Summary: "If the ticket hadn’t been a gift from Jess, Lena would never have gone to the orchestra concert that changed her life. The secretary deserved a raise for simply existing, but Lena wouldn’t appreciate that until much, much later."





	1. Le Caho

If the ticket hadn’t been a gift from Jess, Lena would never have gone to the orchestra concert that changed her life. The secretary deserved a raise for simply existing, but Lena wouldn’t appreciate that until much, much later.

Initially, she had wanted to decline the ticket.

It wasn’t that she disliked classical music, quite the opposite, really. She enjoyed many genres, and often had something playing in the background of her personal lab as she worked on her projects. She just happened to have a very specific palate for classical works: that is, the frivolousness of most of Mozart or the movie-ready compositions by Philip Glass had never appealed when compared to Beethoven or Tchaikovsky. The only piece that stood as an exception was _Don Giovanni_. The dark musical tones and overall moral struck very personal chords within her – the story itself presented parallels to her life that, in her opinion, were slightly _too_ on the nose.

 _Faust_ was another favourite, for obvious reasons.

Why she enjoyed dark, scary classical music was beyond her ability to fully explain. _Why does anyone enjoy their favourite pieces of music?_ Most of the time, she attributed it to the black spot that she felt was burned into her very being: she was, after all, half a Luthor. Her family was, in and of itself, a diabolical opera; the music just hadn’t been written. Perhaps it was only natural for her to be drawn to the macabre. She sometimes felt like madness and sociopathic ice that drove her brother and mother existed somewhere within her, waiting to come forward once the steel will she’d carefully built wavered. It frightened her at times, and strengthened her resolve at others.

She smirked wryly at herself, idly swirling her scotch. _You’re being dramatic._

The fact of the matter at hand was that Jess had used her own money to gift Lena a ticket to watch the National Symphony Orchestra. It would be ungracious to turn down the thoughtful offer, even if Lena wasn’t too sure of her stance on “music from the Baroque period and beyond.” She knew how to keep an open mind, and besides, she was long overdue for a night off.

The VIP ticket came with complimentary beverage service, not that Lena minded paying for drinks. The personal viewing box directly above stage left was also an added perk.

Lena observed orchestra set up, musicians playing the cacophonous, atonal prelude piece that was tuning and retuning their instruments. She sipped her drink, settled back and let the noise wash over her, meditating on how these sounds, so disjointed and individual and fractured, would come together in a few minutes or so to create a unified wall of sound that told an auditory tale. Leafing through the pre-show pamphlet, she decided to educate herself on the composers and the conductor – he was, apparently, a very big deal; she normally kept up to date on current and upcoming names in the arts, and had to remedy her lack of knowledge about this J’onn J’onzz.

The lights dimmed as she read J’onzz’s profile in “Meet the Conductor.” His story as the “leading figure in the ‘authentic performance’ movement” was lost to darkness as the first violinist strode onstage to give the tuning note.

The audience applauded, and a scattering of cheers caused Lena to look up.

_Oh, hello._

The NSO members dressed in an all-black uniform, but this woman still managed to stand out. Her black button-down and dress trousers clung very pleasingly to muscular shoulders and legs. The neat bun of golden hair completed her professional look. She was tall, and held herself with poise and confidence that gave Lena a fluttering in her stomach.

The first violinist was _hot._

The final tuning went as all tuning tends to go. The CEO couldn’t help but notice a defiantly defined jawline as the first violinist drew out the note. The musician swiftly played through a scale, fingers dexterously traveling up and down her instrument. Lena choked on her single-malt, liquor burning as it ricocheted around her esophagus. _Oh my god, catch yourself_ on _, you thirsty mess._

J’onn J’onzz took the stage.

The music snatched Lena and didn’t let go, the dissonant chords depicting the namesake, “Le Caho,” with a violent passion. It was in D minor, that much Lena could tell from childhood piano lessons. That particular key always managed to draw her in. It was dark, frightening, and intense, jarring her and tossing her around the musical narrative of the chaotic birth of the universe. She paid rapt attention, and only closed her eyes for a moment as the repeating rhythms shook their way into her bones. After the melodic _petit mort_ flowed through her, verdant eyes fluttered open and fixed on the first violinist.

The blonde was rocking with the tempo, fingers flying up and down the neck of her instrument. She played with an intensity that made Lena’s breath catch – it seemed that she was pulling the notes from her very being and sending them into the storm of music, not reading them off of the sheet _._ The song seemed to utterly consume her, transforming her from merely a musician into something otherworldly, as though she herself was the instrument and not her violin. Lena was so wrapped up in her performance that she didn’t notice that the piece had ended.

The applause brought Lena back to reality, and away from her thirsty imagination. She politely clapped, willing herself to calm down. This was a _concert_ , for the love of Christ. The next piece began, and Lena stared at the first violinist, watching each small tap of her left foot, the sway as she played the melodies, the frown of concentration and the way her eyes fluttered shut during particularly beautiful passages.

The ice had melted in her scotch, which she hadn’t touched since “Le Caho.”

The final piece was by a composer she wasn’t too familiar with, and she very reluctantly looked down at the pamphlet in her hand as the opening chords of the first movement played. She swiftly read the brief blurb about the composer and piece, and decided to (try to) pay attention to the rest of the orchestra.

It was an exercise in futility.

By the end of Rameau’s “Orage,” she was gazing at the violinist again. She couldn’t help it, the first chair was a dynamic performer and her command of her instrument was electrifying. A million questions danced around her mind during Rameau’s second movement: who was this woman? How did she get to be the first chair? What’s her favourite piece? What else can those fing – _Stop that._ Lena shook her head a fraction, trying to dislodge the lewd line of questioning her brain shifted towards. _You are not some base creature, be respectful._ Two movements passed without Lena’s notice. She was enraptured by the music played by a woman for whom the violin seemed to be made. Lena nearly didn’t notice when the piece ended, clapping a second behind everyone else as the performers rose for the intermission.

Perhaps she was imagining things, but the first violinist’s gaze seemed to be locked on her as she rose from her box. She must've been, because there’s no way the musician was blushing.

_Trick of the lights._

X

During the intermission, Lena went to the VIP lounge to mingle and exchange pleasant, superficial conversation with other members of National City’s elite. Appearances had to be maintained, connections had to be tended to. It wasn’t formal networking, but it was just as important to the future of L-Corp to engage with potential investors and maintain social connections _. You never know when it’ll help to be on a first-name basis._ She also kept her ears open for any mention of the first violinist. Snippets of information from equally astounded concertgoers filtered in, building a more complete picture of the artist. Most importantly, she got a name:

“Kara Danvers…”

“…the youngest first violinist in the NSO since…”

“…in _decades_ …”

“Not much of a social media presence…”

“No idea where she came from…”

“…but she’s excellent…”

“An absolute wonder!”

“Have you heard her music?”

“From which album?”

“It must be the most recent one…”

“It was _inspired_ …”

“ _…Flawless_ technique…”

“Oh, be quiet, Fred, you just think she’s hot…”

“Well, yes, I have eyes…”

“…very private…”

“…a bit of an enigma, eh?...”

“And that J’onn J’onzz…”

“Oh, yes, what a maestro!”

“Keeping classics alive…”

New threads of inquiry formed in Lena’s mind, as well as sheer amazement. Kara Danvers was certainly young, but the youngest violinist in decades? How had that happened? What was the story behind it?

 _Albums_ , plural? How had Lena missed these? She would have to procure some, for research purposes.

_And thirst._

A new glass of scotch in her hand, Lena made her way back to her box. Though outwardly poised, excitement thrummed through her, making her fingers tingle in a way that had nothing to do with the liquor. The artists began filing back onstage, and keen emerald eyes swiftly found the tall blonde everyone had been discussing in the lounge. Lena took a sip of her drink, eyes tracking the musician as she set up her sheet music and tuned her violin. Her observation was rewarded when Kara Danvers finished warming up and lifted her gaze to the box. It wasn’t a trick of the stage lights; the violinist definitely blushed.

For the second half of the concert, the orchestra played selections from Bach and Haydn, and as much as Lena valiantly tried to pay attention to the music and the other members of the orchestra, the harmonies only served to wrap around the notes that the first violinist was playing. Lena watched Kara Danvers – _Kara? No, too familiar_ – during her solos and during the moments where her playing blended with the larger mosaic wall of music. She allowed herself to be swept up into the Baroque and the Beyond pieces and was one of the first to leap to her feet for a standing ovation.

Kara Danvers took her bows, and turned to look straight into Lena’s box, bowed again with a smile, and _winked_.

Three times in one concert couldn’t be a coincidence, right?

_You know better than to believe in that myth, Luthor._

X

“Jess?”

“Yes, Ms. Luthor?”

“Thank you for the ticket, it was a wonderful show.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it!”

“I quite did. I was actually wondering,” Lena trailed off, thinking. “Would you mind keeping the NSO in mind for scheduling future client meetings?”

“I can make that happen for you, Ms. Luthor!”

X

The next time Lena encountered Kara Danvers was, indeed, a client meeting. It was an older client, someone who had been with L-Corp since Lionel had held the position of CEO. This particular client was receiving offers from various rival companies and she had to do her due diligence. She made sure the same box was reserved, so that while he basked in the memories of “when your father was in charge,” she could look out for the violinist. The performance that night was nothing less than extraordinary, Kara Danvers breathing vibrancy into each piece while commanding all of Lena’s attention. She was rewarded when, during intermission, the violinist met her eyes and smiled. It took Lena a moment to remember how to breathe, but she returned the smile before leaving to attend to her client. At the end of the night, a successful deal closed left Lena feeling bolder, and this time, she winked at the musician. Kara Danvers blushed and bowed, rising with a large grin on her face.

It made Lena’s night.

X

After that, Lena made more of a concerted effort to attend NSO concerts when she wasn’t busy. It was not a regular occurrence, as her duties as a CEO took priority over relaxing nights watching a particular virtuoso. It did replace a bottle of wine as her evening entertainment, though; _probably more prudent_ , she mused, glancing at the one glass of scotch she was enjoying. She settled into a routine at the performances: a standing ovation at intermission and the end of the performance, smile broadly at Kara Danvers, and then one of them winked at the other, eliciting a blush.

Lena Luthor was many things, and knew how to get things done. It’s why she was the logical leadership choice when Lex had abandoned the company to pursue his murderous agenda. However, finding the right time to arrange for an introduction to Kara Danvers proved to be frustrating. The violinist always left right after the performance, making a beeline for backstage after winking at Lena. She did have very limited social media presence, and most of it was private with messaging disabled. _Why would I message her on social media, though?_ It was impersonal, Lena felt, saying as much to Sam during a lunch meeting.

“Tell me you didn’t consider sliding into her DMs,” the CFO replied. Lena groaned and shifted her open palm to signal that she kind of did float the idea once to twenty times.

“Lena, no, that’s creepy and weird!”

“I know,” she replied with another groan, “but how else am I going to meet her?”

“You do what everyone else does: wait around after the performance to get her autograph or something.”

“That only happens in movies, or on Broadway,” Lena argued.

“How do you know if you haven’t tried?” Sam countered.

“Isn’t it just as creepy as sending a message online?”

“Well, you can always pretend that you’re lost.”

“She’s seen me at over six performances, she’ll know that that’s bullshit!”

“Yes, but at least you’ll have ‘properly met,’ eh?” Sam replied, smirking with her victory. “Besides, it sounds like she’d not mind running into you, from what you’ve told me.”

That conversation was the catalyst to Lena’s current predicament: the NSO concert house was empty save for a few custodians and herself. The performance had ended a half hour ago, and Lena had texted Frank, her driver, to go get himself some food. She’d seen the security guards lock the doors; her point of no return.

 _How illegal is it to be hanging around the stage door like some kind of groupie?_ Lena mused, squashing a tiny thrum of anxiety that seemed to lurk whenever any remote similarity between herself and her brother presented itself. _You are not here to hurt someone, you_ _are_ not _like him,_ you _are just hoping an extremely hot woman will come through those doors and give you the tim-_

“May I help you?”

Lena jumped slightly at the warm voice. Here she had been, arguing with herself about the legality of hanging around the concert house after a show, and allowed someone to get the jump on her. At least she’d get the answer to her mental deliberation. She turned to address the speaker, but her words died on her tongue.

Kara Danvers stood behind her, golden hair unbound and cascading in waves over one shoulder. Glasses perched on her nose, only serving to highlight the sheer azure of her eyes. She was still in her concert uniform, but the top two buttons were undone and the sleeves were rolled up. The defined forearms definitely short-circuited Lena’s brain, but thankfully her face betrayed none of her thirst. She realized she was staring, and that she had a reply to give. _Say something suave, something cool, something -_

“You wear glasses?” Lena asked, thankfully only sounding a little stunned.

“Only when I’m not performing,” the musician responded, tapping the frames with a small, amused grin. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes…I’m…lost?” Lena finished lamely, cringing inwardly at her obvious lie. She’d been trained to hold her own against other CEOs and aggressive interrogation; how was she fumbling this right now? _I blame the arms._

“Really? From the number of concerts I’ve seen you at, I’d have thought you’d know your way around by now?”

“Nothing gets past you, I see,” Lena smirked coyly, finding her footing. It amused her to be caught and called out, and thrilled that Ms. Danvers had, in fact, definitely noticed her. The question became, had she noticed Lena noticing her back?

“Well, that’s why they made me first chair,” Kara Danvers shrugged nonchalantly. “Keen observation skills.”

“Lucky for me they did,” Lena let her voice drop into a bit of a purr, rejoicing as she watched pink flood the violinist’s cheeks. She stepped forward, making sure to add a little extra swing to her hips. Her reward was Kara Danvers subtly swallowing – she was close enough to see her throat bob. _Good._ It was nice to know that, for all their shared bravado, she affected Kara Danvers just as Kara Danvers affected her.

“O-oh?” The flirtatious tone was adorably augmented by the slight stutter, and Lena felt her confidence growing. “I had no idea you were a fan.”

“You play with such _passion_ ,” Lena breathed, “how could I not be?”

That earned her a light laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy listening.”

“I quite do, you’re _very_ talented, Ms. Danvers,” Lena smirked, stepping closer and into Kara Danvers’ personal space. The violinist’s blush deepened as she bit her lip, smiling.

“Please, call me Kara.”

“Kara…” Lena let the name come forward, enjoying the permission for familiarity. “I’m Lena. It’s a pleasure to finally, properly meet you.”

“Lena,” Kara grinned, “believe me, the pleasure is all mine. I’m glad to finally put a name to the stunning vision I get to see every time I play here.”

There was that wink again, and the CEO couldn’t help but think of how her name would sound in a very different situation. _Please, please let me find out -_

“Hey! Are you two blind?” Lena and Kara jumped. They’d been so caught up with each other that they hadn’t noticed cleaning crew beginning their work on the concert house.

“The house is closed, you can’t be here!” The closest custodian admonished, pointing towards the exits.

Kara recovered first, and began apologizing, giving Lena a thrill as she grabbed her hand and led them both towards the doors

“Sorry! Gosh, I’m so sorry! We’re going, we’re going, sorry!”

As they half-charged towards the doors, something niggled at the back of Lena’s mind. Something she’d witnessed and needed to remember, something that was important, something to do with the doors…

_Oh, shit._

“Kara –” she began, the warning on the tip of her tongue. Kara turned to look at her, even as they kept moving towards the doors. She gestured, frantically:

“The doors, they’re –”

Her sentence was cut short by the loud clang of Kara’s head meeting the locked door, followed by the collision of her body into the violinist’s. The back of her mind screamed at the closeness, the solidness of the warm body between herself and the door. Kara smelled clean, and up close, Lena could see a faint smattering of freckles.

A moment of stunned silence was followed by a groan.

The custodian rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, walking towards the two hapless women with a key for the door. The jingle of the key string launched Lena into action, to the dismay of her lizard-thirst-brain.

“Oh my god, Kara! Are you alright?” She grabbed Kara’s face, searching her eyes for any signs of concussion, or blood, or missing teeth. _Propriety be damned._

“Physically, I’ll be fine. My pride, however…” the musician joked.

Relieved, Lena laughed.

“It happens to all of us: I had a heel break during a very important meeting, and had to pretend it wasn’t for a full hour.”

“Oh my gosh, your poor ankle!” Kara reached up and gently held Lena’s hand, a comforting thumb rubbing over her knuckles as they both chuckled at themselves.

“For the love of Christ, both of you: out. NOW.” The custodian threw his hands up, then towards the outside.

Apologising again, the women left, wincing a little as the door slammed shut behind them.

“So…do you have any plans for tonight? Or may I take you out for a drink?” Kara asked with the confidence of someone who definitely hadn’t just run face-first into a door.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”


	2. Miserere Mei Deus

Kara couldn’t believe that this was actually happening.

She’d been able to say that only a handful of times and each of those times had been momentous. Like, life-changing.

Taking up violin lessons had been the first time: the minute she had produced a sound on the hand-me-down Stentor, she’d felt something shift within her eight-year-old world. Playing had been her new challenge, and she dedicated a half-hour every day to practicing, wobbling her way through scales and arpeggios on an old violin with clearly demarcated frets. Her mother had color-coded them, to help Kara and make the music more colorful. Her parents had been so supportive, applauding from the kitchen or the living room when Kara nailed “Mary Had A Little Lamb” or the various theme songs for her favorite cartoons. After a few years, her parents had surprised her with a Stradivarius for her birthday.

The second time had devastated her. She had been thirteen, had seen smoke and heard sirens growing louder as she’d walked home from a lesson. A sick feeling had crawled up into her heart as she’d approached her neighborhood, a growing dread that weighed down her feet and pounded in her chest. She remembered hoping, a stabbing sensation of _please please please_ that grew more insistent and sharp as she swiftly turned onto her street and saw her house in flames.

Her parents never made it out.

She lost her home and everything she had, except what she wore that day and her violin. The events themselves were blurry, but the shock and the loss and the anger and the guilt were more acute, all roiling up and crashing around inside were scars, branding her psyche. A part of her died in that house, with her family.

For the first year with the Danvers family, she’d done nothing but go to school and practice violin. The energy for anything besides music and academics just hadn’t been there. Eventually, she came out of herself enough to open up space for Eliza and Jeremiah and Alex.

The third time, she’d met Cat Grant. The producer had been at a benefit that Kara had been lucky enough to book, and had asked about her after the performance. Her hero then found Kara backstage and, in the very distinctive style that was Cat Grant, taken Kara on as a mentee. It had been surreal to learn from one of the best musicians and business moguls in the world, and Ms. Grant had helped push and support Kara in her own brisk way. Eventually, Ms. Grant became Kara’s sponsor, not only financially, but also helping her with networking and suggesting auditions. That was about the time that she had started to trust in hope again.

Fourth had been the day she received her acceptance into the National Symphony Orchestra. She had known she'd aced the audition, but it was all down to the minutiae and the interviews - everyone trying out for the NSO had been technically flawless musicians, and the competition was fierce. She'd gotten the call, however, and though it was in a lower chair, it was still a spot with one of the best orchestras in the country, if not the world. It was always just a matter of getting her foot in the door, Cat would tell her. Kara’s skill and work ethic would get her the rest of the way to a spot as the first chair violinist.

And now? Now, she was sat next to one of the most stunning women she’d ever met, in a bar downtown, chatting over drinks. She _still_ couldn’t believe it; Lena was laughing at her jokes, sharing small anecdotes, and most incredibly, flirting back. _This can’t be real life_ , she found herself repeating mentally.

“So, Kara,” her name sounded like silk flowing from Lena’s lips, and Kara caught herself thinking about how she could draw her name from the witty woman sitting with her leg warmly pressed against her own. “When is your next performance? I’d like to know when to purchase tickets.”

“Well, J’onn has a whole series of concerts dedicated to exploring major musicians and their contributions to classical music…our next one is the Mozart series, in November!”

“Mmh…” Lena let out the noise into her glass, which sounded suspiciously like a lack of enthusiasm disguised as polite acknowledgment.

“Do you…not like Mozart?” Kara really, really hoped that she didn’t sound judgmental. She honestly wasn’t, she just had never met anybody who disliked the composer – then again, she did really only hang out with other musicians, for the most part.

“Well…not really, no, save for one or two pieces.” Lena shrugged. Kara was agog.

“I can’t believe you don’t like _Mozart!_ That’s just…that’s like not liking potstickers, or, or hot chocolate!” Kara found herself spluttering.

“It’s nothing against him, I can appreciate what he contributed to classical music as a whole,” Lena began, looking at her drink. “But, I just find his compositions to be needlessly…frivolous.” Her eyes flicked up to catch Kara’s reaction.

Kara choked on her drink.

“ _Frivolous_? Lena, he was a _genius_. He transcribed _Miserere mei Deus_ from memory after only hearing it _twice_! He picked up different musical styles from traveling and synthesized all of it into his own creation that literally changed an entire genre of music! Not to mention, he created a compositional language so unique that it’s influenced, like, basically every composer and musician who came after him!” Kara knew she was gesticulating wildly, but this was _Mozart_ and she was a _musician_.

“I’ll give him _Don Giovanni,_ but the rest is…not exactly to my taste.”

“I bet I can change your mind.” Kara challenged, resting her cheek against her palm, smiling.

“You seem very confident, Ms. Danvers. Care to make a wager on that?” Lena leaned close, with a teasing smirk that encouraged Kara.

“Absolutely. I get you to enjoy a piece by Mozart…and you let me take you for – ah, _to_ dinner.” _Please let her not have heard that slip._

“What makes you think I wouldn’t already want to go to dinner with you?” The smirk turned into a grin, and Kara melted a little, beaming back in response. _Lena wants to go on a date!_

“Well, I have to have _something_ to wager with, and if not dinner, then what?”

“Oh, I can think of quite a few other things we could offer each other…” Lena purred suggestively, lightly running her fingers along Kara’s before settling her hand warmly on top of the violinist’s. Kara’s breath caught as she felt heat pulse from the base of her skull downwards; she tried not to squirm. Lena’s words sparked her imagination and sent flame down to her hips where it settled, low. Her eyes darted down to the pale expanse of Lena’s throat; what would it be like to just… _Calm down, this is the first time you’ve both interacted with more than your eyes!_ Hoping she seemed more suave than she felt, she took another sip of her drink.

“Believe me, I would like nothing more than to hear your thoughts on these other things we could offer each other,” Kara began, shifting closer to Lena and letting her own hand come to rest on top of Lena’s thigh – not too high, but with a very unmistakable unspoken message: _I could go higher, and bring you with me._ They were so close that she heard the other woman’s breath hitch, could’ve sworn she saw the stutter of her pulse. Her eyes caught Lena’s – verdant depths intensely focused on her as full red lips parted. It would be so, _so_ easy to just close the distance, to just give in to the heat surging through her and block out the whole bar and just lose herself in Lena…

“But I really do think I can change your mind about Mozart,” Kara spoke lowly, into Lena’s ear, trying not to smirk as she slowly drew back. A shiver rolled through Lena, something small that Kara wouldn’t have noticed had she not been in Lena’s space. Something within Kara swelled with pride; she did _that_ to Lena.

Lena, to her credit, recovered quickly. She cocked her head at Kara before finishing the rest of her drink.

“I look forward to seeing you try,” she replied as she shifted off of the stool to stand between Kara’s legs – in _her_ space, hand moving from Kara’s and trailing up her arm to grasp at her shoulder. Lena’s nails dug in slightly, and the sensation sent a thrill rippling across Kara’s body. Kara’s hand, once on Lena’s thigh, now rested on her hip. Kara chuckled.

“You don’t shy away from a competition, do you?”

“No. I’m not one to back down from a challenge,” came the sultry reply, Lena’s breath hot and mere centimeters from her lips. “And darling, I _never_ lose.”

_Fuck. Me._

X

They could have talked through the night, about everything under the sun, but the day’s stresses were catching up to Kara, and as she watched Lena try to smother a yawn, she knew that it was probably nearing time for both of them to go home. Kara knew she had to be at rehearsal early – the CEO probably also had commitments to meet. It would be wrong of Kara to keep Lena up and out all night, even though every part of her screamed to throw everything to the wind and see where they wound up – Kara had a few very explicit ideas regarding that. When Lena yawned again, however, she shook those heated thoughts away. _This is just one night_ , she reminded herself. _There will be others._

_Maybe_ , a traitorous, doubtful part of her offered. She shook that away, too. Instead, she let the drinks dwindle before offering to pay for their three rounds.

Lena batted Kara’s proffered card away with:

“You endured a traumatic brain injury asking me out; it’s only right I pay for our drinks.”

“Exactly! I walked into a _door_ , please let me save some face!” Kara chuckled as she retorted. A short, non-combative argument followed, securing Lena a victory. Triumphantly, she handed her card to the bartender.

“Just think of this as incentive for our little bet,” Lena smirked, and Kara felt heat lick low at her hips.

“This is incentive?”

“I just want you to bring your A-game, as they say,” Lena challenged, cocking an eyebrow as she left a generous tip on the receipt. “Why, do you need further…motivation?” The pause and slow drawl of the last word did _things_ to Kara. She was plenty motivated, all right. _Motivated to bend you over the bar and –_

Well. That was _not_ going to lead to sleep.

“Thank you for inviting me out, Kara. I had a lovely time with you.”

Kara blushed and fiddled with her glasses a little before replying:

“Thank you for coming with me, I’m really glad I ran into you tonight.”

“Really?” Lena tilted her head, eyes crinkling in a pleased smile.

“Yes, really! What, do you not think you’re good company?”

“I just don’t really do this very often, and if I do, it’s not usually as…fun.”

“Why not?” Kara asked, softening her voice.

“I work insane hours and don’t often do things for myself. Usually it’s just for business or politics – keeping up appearances and that sort of thing, you know.” Lena shrugged, attempting nonchalance but instead looking resigned.

“That sounds…incredibly lonely, Lena,” Kara replied.

“It’s the price that has to be paid when you run a company, I’m afraid.” Lena sighed, looking away for a second. A beat passed before she looked back at Kara with a small smile. “There are perks, though – a box seat and season tickets to watch one of the most talented violinists in the country, to name one…”

Kara chuckled, running a hand through her hair.

“Well, if you ever find yourself wanting to do _this_ again, I’d like to find my way onto your list,” she said.

“Believe me, you’re at the very top.”

Lena tapped out a quick text and rose from her seat.

“That’s my ride, he’ll be here in a minute. Walk me out?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Kara grinned and held out her hand. Lena took it; her soft fingers were cool from holding her drink. Their hands seemed to slide together naturally, a perfect fit. Not forgetting her manners, Kara held the door open for Lena. Maybe it was also a perfect opportunity to flex a little – literally – and show off, but Kara did genuinely want to do things right, and that included holding the door for her…date? This was a date, right? Could it be a date if they’d only really bumped into each other and ended up out?

“Was this a date?” She blurted out as the door closed. Lena turned to face Kara, surprise evident in her face.

“I’m sorry?”

“I- uhm – Well, because we hadn’t planned it beforehand, it was kind of a spur of the moment sort of thing, right? Like, normally there’s dinner and an activity and we just went for drinks. But we definitely went out, and we flirted and so I was wondering if this, for you, was a date?”

Lena’s lips pulled up in a grin as she let loose a light laugh and stepped closer.

“Kara, I don't think that it’s as deep as that.” She ran her thumb along Kara’s knuckle. “But for the sake of clarity, yes, this was a date for me. What about you? Was this a date?”

“Yeah – yes!” Kara enthusiastically replied, giving a very light squeeze to Lena’s hand. “And I would really, really like to do it again,” she followed hopefully.

In response, Lena lifted herself up a little bit and placed a soft but lingering kiss on Kara’s cheek. The violinist's brain stuttered along with her heart, but she didn't miss the next words, whispered hotly in her ear:

“I would quite like that as well.”

At that moment, Lena’s ride – her _chauffeur_ , Kara realized through her daze – pulled up. The CEO pulled away regretfully but didn’t break their hands until the last possible second. The two women said their goodbyes, and if the driver - Frank, Kara saw from his nametag - noticed either of them seeming to be a little breathless, he said nothing.

Kara waved until she saw the red taillights turn the corner, and then hailed a cab.

X

The night air was refreshing, and Kara leaned against the cool brick of her apartment building, reveling in the way it washed over her. She couldn’t believe it; she’d finally, _finally_ , talked to the woman in the box – _Lena_ , her mind sighed – and she’d finally taken her out, and they actually now legitimately had plans to see each other. It was something that only happened in a silly romantic movie – eyes meeting, bumping into each other, and god, the _connection._ She’d never felt anything spark within her the way it had with Lena. There was something there, and she wanted to find out what it was. Her cheek was warm where Lena’s lips had touched, and her hand tingled a little. Kara let out a breathless laugh at her absolutely excellent fortune and the absurd wonder of it all.

Grinning, she looked down at her phone and scrolled to the “Ls” in her contacts.

_Laurel Lance_

_Sara Lance_

_Lois Lane_

_Lucy Lane_

_Nia Nal_

Slowly, her grin faded.

Surely, there’s some mistake? Maybe she needed to close the Contacts app and open it again.

The same damn names scrolled by, with Lena’s nowhere to be seen.

She’d never gotten Lena’s number.

_FU-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Melui for proofing most of this; you're a real one and mvp!
> 
> What're all y'alls thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> This has been cooking for a while. Please let me know how it is, I thrive on external validation/constructive criticism :D
> 
> The first upload mixed stuff around, but I fixed it so hopefully, it'll make more sense!


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